Oncee again we hear an ancient story and explore its connection with contemporary life. Every year on the Sunday before the beginning of Lent, the Christian Church listens to an account of what is called the transfiguration of Jesus. Since Moses and Elijah populate the story along with Jesus, the lectionary gives us a reading about the end of Elijah's earthly life. Both the transfiguration story and the Elijah narrative partake of the mystical, the holy.
In the transfiguration story, Jesus takes Peter, John, and James up an un-named mountain with him to pray. A knowledgeable reader of the Bible will know that something dramatic is likely to happen. Mountaintops figured strongly in the history of Israel. Moses climbed Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments from God, and he returned with his face so glowing that the people became afraid. Elijah, exhausted by his struggles with King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, trudged to Mount Horeb at God's direction, there to witness the passing of a whirlwind, in which the presence of God became clear. Elijah's dramatic contest with the priests of Baal took place on Mount Carmel. Anyone wanting to explore the spiritual history of the Israelites would do well to investigate events taking place on mountaintops.
In the event we are considering today, Peter, James, and John climbed a mountain with Jesus, whose purpose was to pray. While Jesus was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothing became dazzling white. Two figures from the distant past appeared and conversed with Jesus. They talked about Jesus' approaching death, his departure or "exodus" in the language of the text. Peter, impetuous Peter, only half-awake, said it was good that they were there. He proposed building three shrines or shelters, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. While Peter was speaking, a cloud overshadowed the scene, and out of the cloud a voice spoke, confirming Jesus as God's son and directing the disciples to listen to Jesus. The disciples are described as "terrified." When the cloud lifted, Moses and Elijah were gone, and Jesus alone remained in view of the three witnesses.
What does all this mean for us today, for us who are the church, the modern disciples of Jesus? We find some direction in the fact that the transfiguration event is described in the first three Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke, each one giving a particular slant to the story. This strange, mysterious, powerful narrative from the Gospels prepares us for the celebration of Jesus' death and resurrection, the conclusion of Lent and the centerpiece of our faith. In the transfiguration event we are being prepared for the resurrection appearances of the risen Lord after his death by crucifixion.
Luke tells us two things about Jesus' transfiguration that Matthew and Mark do not include in their accounts. Luke tells us Jesus climbed the mountain with Peter, James, and John in order to pray. Luke's Gospel is sometimes called the Gospel of prayer. Luke puts more emphasis on prayer than the other Gospel writers do. I suspect he wants us to know that transforming spiritual experiences are more likely to occur when we develop spiritual disciplines—like prayer, the study of the Bible, participation in worship, and generosity toward other people. It is through such practices that our spiritual receptors become more attuned to God.
That is not to say spiritual, mystical events like the transfiguration will inevitably take place in our lives if we faithfully engage in prayer and other disciplines. Not at all. One commentator on this happening writes: The account of the transfiguration records the kind of experience that only a privileged few ever had in the entire history of Israel and the early church. Mystics and saints have lived lives of disciplined piety in hopes of attaining such a beatific vision. [R. Alan Culpepper in The New Interpreter's Bible, Vol. IX, p.207] But they have not always got what they yearned for. Many of them, and many of us, have had times of clarity when "the big picture" came into focus in an inexplicable way. But rarely are such times so dramatic as the transfiguration event was, according to the Gospels.
Further direction for understanding the transfiguration comes from another of Luke's unique features. He tells us what Moses and Elijah talked about with Jesus. They talked about Jesus' impending departure, his approaching "exodus," his coming death. We need to remember that as we enter the season of Lent. The hinge events of the Christian faith are the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. They give shape to our discipleship, and they set the pattern for our worship. There is no Easter without Good Friday. There is no discipleship without a cross.
What did Luke mean when he said Peter didn't know what he was saying when he talked about building shrines or booths to mark the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration? Isn't it natural to want to prolong times of ecstasy, experiences of transcendent spiritual exhilaration? Of course. I don't think we need to be hard on ourselves because we want the good times to go on forever, whether the good times are economic, physical, or spiritual. But Jesus' gentle silence in response to Peter's suggestion of enshrining the moment speaks volumes. Even the best of times will come to a halt. Economies expand and contract. Lives begin and end.
We simply cannot live our entire lives on the mountaintop of spiritual exultation or at the level of constant enjoyment. Jesus didn't, and he didn't allow the disciples who were his contemporaries to believe they could either. He always pointed them toward the path of life that winds through a varied landscape—sometimes through places of beauty and pleasure, sometimes through places of pain and sadness, sometimes up steep pathways that demand heroic effort and endurance. Moments of deep spiritual awareness can help us remember that God, who loves us, is with us every step of the way. But we cannot stop time; we cannot stay on the mountaintop. As someone [Culpepper] has said, "Faithfulness is not achieved by freezing a moment but by following on in confidence that God is leading and that what lies ahead is even greater than what we have already experienced."
Some time ago when I met with the youth group of a church I was serving, I was asked about my decision to become a minister. The young people wanted to know whether I heard a voice or saw a vision or had something like the transfiguration experience. What I said then and can say now is that my vocational plans came into focus over the course of a late summer weekend between my first and second years of college. During those couple of days I had a feeling that God's will for my life meant entering the ministry. The governing body of my home church confirmed what I described to them as a sense of call.
Since then my awareness of God's presence in my life has been strongest in a wide variety of circumstances, ranging from times of great joy to experiences of heart-breaking sadness. I have learned to be grateful for God's presence in the seemingly routine events of daily life. Yesterday afternoon I telephoned Vera Roberts in Dallas to ask how she is doing after being in the hospital for a consultation. At the end of our conversation she said, "Thanks for your call, David. I appreciate your prayers." God was there.
Last Sunday I was in Hawaii, the guest in the home of a married couple, the husband of which was my first associate pastor in Ewing, New Jersey, thirty-five years ago. There is a Presbyterian Church in Honolulu, but it is not a church where I would feel comfortable, so I stayed home and read the Sunday New York Times. The last page essay in the Magazine section was written by the mother of three children, two girls and a boy. The boy died at the age of two-and-a-half. The family decided to adopt a male Korean infant with an imperfect medical record. The mother writes honestly and eloquently about her feelings of wanting a replacement for her dead son and her awareness of how unfair such feelings were to the Korean boy they named Ryan.
As I read the rest of the story, I came to the moment when Ryan said, "I wish I could have known my older brother, but if he hadn't gotten sick, I guess I wouldn't be here." I found myself thinking how unique and special every life is, and how crazy it is even to use the terms normal or unusual when describing human lives or family constellations. I thought back to September 2007 when I officiated at Steve's and Harris's commitment ceremony, and I thought about the baptism I knew would take place today. And I was grateful that God is with us in all the circumstances of life. Last Sunday was a mountaintop experience for me, and I wasn't even in church!
Have there been mountaintop experiences in your life? I hope so. But if not, know that God is with us in the ordinary as well as in the extraordinary, maybe especially in the ordinary. Peter, John, and James went down from the mountain with Jesus after the transfiguration and journeyed with him to his death and beyond. They dealt with fearful times, like the times confronting us. They came to regard life as a gift from God, all of life, not just the good times. They learned to be grateful, as I hope you and I are learning to be grateful.
As we live life one day at a time, the God who loves us will be with us—with you and with me, now and always. Because of that what lies ahead will be better than what we have so far experienced.
Thanks be to God.